A day like any other
by Chapin CSI
Summary: SLASH. Gil & Greg. R, mostly for language. After the turmoil caused by his near deafness, Grissom finally regains control of his life. This life doesn't include Greg... does it?
1. First Chapter

A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER 

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS and I'm just borrowing for a little story. Slash, Alternate Universe, first time 

Gil / Greg

Yeah, Grissom's too old for Greg, but I've always thought that Greg has a crush on him.

Spoilers: Episode: Last Laugh.

Greg discovers that Grissom's losing his hearing and tries to comfort him, ("My grandfather is deaf too!") and fails; then Grissom assumes and makes a mistake..

This story is told from Grissom's POV

* * *

What a day.

I would have laughed if anyone had told me what I was going to do in the next twenty four hours.

Maybe I should have said 'what a year'. Ever since I was diagnosed with Ottosclerosis, my life has turned upside down. Now I have to deal with the fact that I'm losing my hearing and I have to keep it a secret from my coworkers, the lawyers, the Sheriff if I want to keep my job as Supervisor. The DA wouldn't accept any case of mine if he knew I'm ailing.

Soon I'll have to decide whether to have an operation and risk losing the little hearing I still have, or wait until I simply lose it completely. I don't have much to choose from.

So far I've been successful in hiding my condition to my coworkers…

Actually no, I haven't been entirely successful…

Twenty four hours ago I was investigating a mass poisoning case. Two people had died after drinking Inoko Water, and although at first the evidence pointed to random tampering, in the end we realized that the first dead person had been the principal target.

Our latest theory was that whoever had grinded the migraine pills that were used to poison the water, had done it in a coffee grinder; if Greg identified the coffee residue in the water we might identify the coffee drinker… and the murderer.

Greg entered my office, sat on my desk, and said, "You know what I have that you want in the morning- apart from my devilish good looks of course-?"

"I like your coffee," I'd answered, poker face in place. I'd ignored the introductory speech and didn't ask him to get to the point. I've come to understand that Greg needs to talk more than he has to, either because he's still nervous around me, or because he needs to show off his vast knowledge. I'll take it as long as he brings results, which he did in this case: He launched into a mini lecture about coffee, which in turn steered me towards the solution of the case. I smiled my thanks to Greg, phoned Brass, and asked him to get a warrant. When I hung up I realized that Greg was still sitting on my desk.

"Anything else, Greg?"

"Hum… yes." He admitted and leant back, expecting some long speech about the case. To my surprise, he simply dropped a bomb on me:

"Grissom… are you losing your hearing?"

I immediately looked outside, worried that anyone passing by my open door might hear him. Nobody had, but I still had to deal with Greg. He hurried to reassure me.

"Hey, it's ok." He said gently, "No one else knows. I myself wasn't sure until now." I didn't say anything and he hastened to add, "I won't tell, Grissom."

"You have nothing to tell." I replied evasively, and got up to leave, "I've got to go now, so-"

"Wait. Wait, please." He said, blocking the door from me "Look. I know you don't like to talk about personal stuff, but… If you're worried about deafness, you shouldn't be. I've done some research and I've found out that it's more common than one thinks. My grandfather is losing his hearing too, and he does all right! The good news is there are all kinds of aids that can help. You should try the kind my grandfather wears-" I visibly flinched at being compared to an old man, and he hurried to make amends.

"Hey, not that you're as old as my grandfather-"

"Greg?" I interrupted, my patience running thin, "I've got to go."

I walked around him and left my office.

Later that night, Jim and I went to the comedy club and arrested the unfunny man who had killed another unfunny man and an innocent kid. There were gasps of surprise from the public, but by the time we left, someone was already telling a joke about it.

We filled all preliminary paperwork and by eight in the morning I was free to go home. Once there, I'd have a hot shower, read a book, feed my pets, and sleep. By the time I woke up in the evening, I'd be rested and feeling like a new man.

Or as new as an old man can feel...

As new as a man with grandfather health problems can get...

I told myself to shut up.

I did try to sleep but every damn noise on the street kept waking me up. I tried every relaxing technique I knew but nothing worked and by noon I had given up. I was drinking some tea and reading the paper when someone knocked. I stumbled to the door and looked through the peep hole… and closed my eyes impatiently. I briefly debated whether to open the door or not, but in the end I did.

"What can I do for you, Greg?" I said, sarcastically polite.

The kid smiled

"Morning, boss. I… hum… can I talk to you?"

"It's day time, Greg," I said patronizingly. "Wait until the night shift starts, all right?"

"I have something for you," he said, eagerly lifting a package. "Just give me a minute. Please."

I reluctantly let him in and led him to the living room, expecting him to say something about my Spartan furniture. To his credit, he didn't. He simply sat and tried to find a comfortable spot in the couch.

He was too nervous to sit for long, though; he got up and glanced at the books on the nearest bookshelf.

He cleared his throat.

"Hum, Grissom, about today…"

"Greg, I won't talk about it." I warned him, but he ignored me.

"… I was thinking that if you're going deaf, you'll soon have to deal with some problems. Not just at the lab, but here at home, you know. Like when you want to listen to some music. I mean, I don't now if you're going to wear an aid, but if you're not, you'll have to turn up the volume and you know how neighbors are. I mean, mine resent me all the time. I know you resent my music too, although you haven't said anything lately." He looked up, "Now I know WHY you hadn't said much about it-"

"Greg," I interrupted, "What's your point?"

"Oh… I got you this," he said quickly, taking something out of a paper bag, "It's a CD player." He explained, "I've used it for some time now, but it still has some years left" he paused, as if he wasn't sure of what to add. He handed me his gift and I stared at it as if it were some alien artifact I had never seen before.

"Your grandpa wears one of these?" I asked.

"No, he doesn't care much for music." He said dismissively, "But you'll love this, Grissom. I got you a CD too-" He took a disc out of a box, while chattering away, "You know, yesterday I was listening to some of my CDs and I suddenly asked myself what it would be like not to be able to listen to music anymore; can you imagine that?" he was busily putting the disc inside the player; "But hey, we have all this technology to help us solve our little problems-"

I realized that Greg didn't know that I was more screwed up than his grandfather, who only needed an aid to solve his problem.

"Put on the headphones!" He said enthusiastically, "Listen to this; I'm sure that's one of your favorites." he pushed 'play' and I immediately recognized the piece. I smiled a little; this concert by Grieg was indeed one of my favorites.

Greg smiled back and continued talking, so I had to read his lips,

"It's great, isn't it? Can you imagine not being able to listen to something like this anymore?"

Shit.

Since the Ottosclerosis had been diagnosed, I'd made some half-hearted attempts to plan for the future, but frankly, I still didn't know what to do. I was terrified about losing my hearing because of my job, but Greg's words had made me realize there were losses I hadn't thought about... Music had always been a refuge for me and I just couldn't bear to lose it.

I gulped. I tried to say something but I couldn't and, to my surprise, my eyes filled with tears. Greg was immediately concerned. He put a hand on my shoulder and started saying something; I read his lips again.

"-sorry, I didn't want to make you sad-."

"It's ok." I muttered, "It's just..." I took off the headphones as if they had burned my ears.

Greg kept rubbing my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

"Hey, Grissom… is something the matter?" he asked. I tried to explain but couldn't, and he did what I least expected: He put his arms around me.

I froze. Nobody had done that in –how many years?- and I didn't know how to react. I mean, I didn't know whether to hold him too, or just point out to him how freaked out I was by all this-

"Is there anything else going on, Grissom?" asked Greg.

"Yeah." I admitted.

"We'll deal with it." He said, patting my back. It was a relief to have someone comforting me. I had always dealt with my problems on my own, and I was tired of it. I leant into his embrace. "That's it. You'll be ok…" he whispered reassuringly and his breath felt like a caress on my neck.

I felt… something. I instinctively drew my arms around him and suddenly we were so close together-

It felt good… Very good.

So damn good I was getting a hard on. He noticed and pulled away to look at me with widened eyes. I dropped my arms immediately.

"Sorry-" I mumbled.

"It's ok." He said quickly. I tried to back off but he refused to let go. "It's ok." He repeated, and there was a faint smile on his lips now. "Really, Grissom. Hey, it's basic biology, after all. And we're friends, right?"

I shrugged, glad that it was no big deal for him.

"I can help you if you want." He offered. "I'd like to"

Hell. His words were turning me on and he knew it. He smiled and lightly rubbed his body against me, letting me know that he was hard too. He chuckled when he saw me gaping.

"Surprised?" he said. He glanced down, "We should do something, Grissom; these won't last forever, you know" he said humorously.

He took my silence as consent. Smiling, friendly as always, even a little smug, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the hallway, making some comment about each room he glanced into, and asking questions that I couldn't answer.

"Do you have any condoms around?"

"Well-"

"You don't, do you."

"Hum-"

"Your home's like a monastery, Grissom." He chuckled, and then he lowered his voice, "Or it was until now."

He took control of the situation. He silently helped me out of my clothes and made me lie down. His attitude was, 'just lie back and let me do everything' and I obeyed.

I looked at the ceiling and took mental notes of everything he was doing and everything I was feeling.

I felt alive.

Suddenly I didn't want it to be like that; I didn't want him to 'service' me, I needed to be a part of it. I sat up and grabbed him by the shoulders until he was in bed with me and tried to undress him. He was wearing something loud and complicated, and I fumbled with buttons and zippers under his gaze.

"So, Grissom; you want to give back"." He noticed, smiling, "Great. I'm all for that."

… I wrestled with someone who, being as strong as me, kept pushing me flat on my back until I surrendered… I cried out words that didn't make sense, I experienced what felt like a heart attack, and for a few minutes I was so out of breath that I thought I was going to die.

And all I could think of was… thank you, God.

I'd forgotten what it felt like to do this, to have an orgasm with someone beside me. My heart might be dried up, but my body wasn't. It had been too long since I'd touched someone, but judging by Greg's reaction, I thought I'd done well. I was ridiculously proud of myself. I'd been up to the challenge.

But now that my brain was once again assuming control, I tried to evaluate the consequences of my acts. Sleeping with a coworker was ethically wrong, and I was wondering if Greg was having second thoughts about this too.

I looked at him. His eyes were closed, and he was comfortably lying on his back, an arm casually folded under his pillow. He was utterly relaxed.

"Greg?" I called, but he didn't stir.

We napped for almost an hour, and when I looked at him again he was awake. He smiled, and stretched, lazily.

"Hey, Grissom." He greeted.

I opened my mouth once or twice, but it took me a while to find something to say.

"Are we gay, Greg?" I asked, trying to get some reaction out of him. He frowned for a moment.

"I'm opportunistic." He said finally. "Like you, I guess." I didn't understand, and he added, "I think you'd sleep with anyone who enters that wall that surrounds you." He said thoughtfully.

I didn't know how to take that.

"I don't sleep around." I frowned.

"I know." He said gently, "That's my point, precisely. Few people would attempt to get close to you."

"Except for you." I noticed.

"Yeah." He nodded, smiling smugly.

"And I have a wall around me?" I said

"A wall… or just a front." He said thoughtfully, "You're wise and infallible and people around you watch you in awe-"

"No, come on…" I protested.

"-and to others, you're simply weird. People don't know that you're losing your hearing, because when you don't listen, they simply assume you're acting weird."

Ah, the weirdness factor. Something we had in common. Something else, I mean.

"And it gets a weird one to understand another." I smiled.

"Yeah" he admitted, "You know, I used to see you as infallible too. Untouchable." He confessed, "This hearing problem has changed that."

I looked away.

"Hum, Grissom. I know that you don't want to talk about it, but hearing aids are no big deal, nowadays; they're practically invisible-"

"They won't help" I interrupted. "Not in the long run; I have something called Ottosclerosis."

"Oh." He frowned, "I read something about it… It's hereditary, isn't it?" He paused for a moment, "You'll need surgery for that, but it isn't always effective."

"No." I admitted and then I deliberately added, "My age might be a negative factor."

He looked at me closely.

"What are you going to do if it doesn't work out?"

I shrugged.

"I'll have to quit my job. I think I'll do something different, like teaching." I said, "I'll probably move to Chicago or Washington-"

"Whoa, can't you teach here?" he was incredulous; "You could still work as a consultant to Las Vegas PD -"

"I can't." I said and before he could interrupt me I added, "You wouldn't understand, Greg." I couldn't really explain it either. Ottosclerosis felt like a weakness, as if I should have done something to prevent it.

We were silent for a moment.

"You should discuss this with the team-"

"No way; I'm not involving anyone in this." I said curtly. After a moment I confessed, "I guess I just don't want to be deaf in Las Vegas."

"You think that being CSI supervisor is all there is to you, don't you?" he said thoughtfully, "It's not like that, Grissom. Even if you can't be out boss anymore, you'll still be Gil Grissom, our friend." He reached and placed his palm on my chest. "Even if you don't hear me ever again, you'll still be able to feel this." He slowly slid his hand until he reached my groin. I closed my eyes, and sighed.

"Can you feel it, Grissom?" he whispered urgently, "Come on… come on..."

I reached out to touch him, mirroring his caresses. I rolled us until I was partially on top.

"I can feel you." I conceded. And then I kissed him.

When I woke up I was laying face down, feeling as if I didn't have a single bone in my body. He was lying next to me. And he was chuckling.

"What's so funny?" I mumbled, my words muffled by my pillow.

"I was picturing Catherine's reaction, you know; if I ever told her that you shoved your tongue down my throat."

That sounded crude. I lifted my head.

"Sorry."

"It's ok, Grissom; I did need the tonsillectomy."

"Oh, God," I cringed, and he chuckled again.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" he laughed, "It was great."

We looked at each other for a moment. I was trying to say something but he spoke first.

"Hey, it's late." He said, getting up, "I've got to go,"

I didn't turn to see him, but I was aware of his movements around the room: He picked up his clothes, picked up his keys… he put my clothes on the bed, he put his on…

Before leaving, he pulled the sheets over my head and told me to 'sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite'; and then he kissed me, doing his own version of a tonsillectomy.

I woke up late in the evening and got ready for work.

I felt great. Some muscles I hadn't exercised in a long time were protesting but I mostly ignored them, like I ignored some alarming thoughts: –you had sex with a coworker! You had sex with a guy! You had sex with a YOUNGER guy!

YOU HAD SEX!

I didn't really think about it until I got to the CSI parking lot. I stayed in the car for a while, thinking of what to say to Greg. I was seriously wondering if we could get together without it affecting our working relationship, when I saw him arrive in his motorcycle. He wasn't alone, though; someone was riding behind him and, judging by the flowing blond hair, it was a woman.

I watched as both of them got off the motorcycle and took off their helmets to kiss. She put on her helmet again and said something; he laughed and waved goodbye.

I remained in the car long after he had entered the building. Soon it would be late, but I couldn't face anybody right now.

My first thought was, 'Why did he have sex with me if he has a girlfriend?' My second thought was, 'Ever heard the phrase 'pity fuck'?

For the first time since I woke up I saw things as they were: He had just tried to comfort me; he hadn't fallen in love with me, or overlooked the fact that I was older, overweight, and had gray hair everywhere.

On the other hand, I had to admit that I had fallen- Uh, no, I won't say it. But my next thought was, 'Am I pathetic or what?'

I couldn't believe that I hadn't changed; after all these years I still confused attraction –even pity- with love.

I leant forward until my forehead touched the steering wheel and then… my shoulders started to shake. Great, at least I could laugh about it.

Someone tapped my window and I looked out.

"Something wrong, buddy?" it was Brass and he looked concerned.

"I'm fine." I said, getting out of my car.

"I thought you were crying." He was embarrassed.

"Nah," I dismissed, "I was laughing."

"Care to share the joke?"

"I'm the joke." I dead panned.

"Huh." He looked at me for a moment, trying to decide if I was being serious. "What, you had a bad day?"

"Not really." I shrugged. "It was a day like any other."

* * *

There's a sequel coming up…


	2. Second Chapter

A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER

Part 2

Spoiler:  Playing with Fire

I spent ten minutes alone in my office, telling myself that I'd be ok. 

I had actually started by telling myself not to be an old fool, but I immediately gave myself a break. I mean, who wouldn't fall for him? It wasn't just the looks. Greg was a smart man, knowledgeable, full of surprises. The kind of person that I liked to talk to.

I only hoped he wouldn't tell anybody; I could deal with a broken heart, as long as I did it privately.

After taking several deep breaths, I reluctantly left the safety of my office; it was time to meet the night crew for a review of our cases.

They were already at the conference room. It was Warrick's turn to bring snacks and he had brought cookies and pretzels.  As always, I'd brought a jar of chocolate covered crickets.  Warrick made a face.

"Grissom, you'll never convince us that those are edible."

"Hey, Grissom." Catherine called out from the opposite end of the table, "What did you do today? You look… relaxed."

"I just ate a dozen of these, Catherine," I replied, "Want to try one?"

She rolled her eyes, but kept a speculative eye on me for the rest of the meeting, as if I had suddenly grown an extra head or as if I had a giant hickey plastered on my-

Uh, oh. I carefully buttoned up my shirt, just in case.

Greg wasn't there yet, but I decided to start; I went first, telling them about a case I was working solo.  Then it was Warrick's turn, and he proceeded to explain how a case that had started as a suicide was shaping up as a murder case. 

Then, just as he was finishing his exposition, my Ottosclerosis began acting up and I couldn't catch his conclusions. Damn.

"Give me a written report by the end of the shift." I said, ignoring Warrick's frown. Informal written reports were becoming the rule since I had start losing my hearing; it wasn't making me popular but at least I wasn't missing anything.

I needed some time for my hearing to come back, so I got up to get a cup of coffee. I kept my eye on my coworkers in case one of them talked to me and that gave me a view of Greg hurriedly entering the room. He was bearing reports and a pastry box.

"You're late," I glared.

"Yes. Sorry, boss." He said, smiling. "But you'll be glad you waited for me, 'cause I've got just what you need."

I don't think I reddened. I hope I didn't.

"I have donuts, everybody!" Greg said, "I also have DNA results that will solve your most intricate cases!" he gave reports to everybody. "Here. Nick, Sara, Warrick, Grissom…" he finished, taking the seat opposite mine.  I sighed and sat again.

"Your turn, Nick." I said.

By the time Nick finished talking about his first pending case, my hearing was back but by then I couldn't concentrate anymore.

Greg was 'on' that night; he made comments, some helpful, some not at all; he peppered his verbal reports with little asides that would have prompted a warning from me… except that night, when I didn't even want to look at him. Finally, Sara had good-naturedly shoved a donut on his face to shut him up. Greg laughed, took the donut from her and munched happily while the rest of us listened to Nick talk about his second case.

I listened but I kept thinking of Greg and the kind of man he was.  He was friendly; he was fiercely proud of his profession, and he was generous. 

Generous, yeah, that was the word that best described him: Greg gave his all as a coworker, and I knew that he was a good friend too; he babysat, he tutored  kids with failing grades, oh, and don't forget, he got you CD players, and helped you if you were lonely and horny.

I snorted and Nick turned and looked curiously at me. He was curious but also resentful, since I'd interrupted him.

"What?" I glared and he sheepishly turned his attention back to his papers.

I was beginning to lose control.

I had to force myself to pay attention to Nick, and I did… for a while. I started wondering if my feelings for Greg were real or merely opportunistic, as he had said. Maybe my reaction had been purely biological. Maybe I was so lonely that a touch from another human being was enough to get me going.

For instance, what would have happened if Nick had come to my place bearing a CD player?  I tried to imagine Nick trying to comfort me and holding me in his arms and I just couldn't picture it. Then I tried to imagine myself in bed with Nick and…nothing. 

I could however, imagine Nick's reaction to my hard-on: He would have run, and fast. 

I snorted again and this time they all turned to me. 

"Continue, Nick." I said impatiently, while picking up a cricket from my jar.

Nick groaned.

"Grissom, I can't believe you eat those things."

"Well, Nick," I replied, "You wouldn't believe what other things I put in my mouth today, either."

Greg choked on his coffee and Nick frowned, and I abruptly announced that I had to make a call. 

Damn, I was definitely losing control of myself; I had to find something to keep me busy and out of the lab for a few days-

I had the solution, but it was a painful, horrible one.

I called the Sheriff and offered to teach a seminar at the Police Academy.

It was six o'clock and the shift had almost ended. I was busy reading Warrick's written report, when…

"Hey, Grissom."

I looked up. Greg was standing by the door.

"Hey, Greg."

"Want a cup of coffee?" he said tentatively, "I'm brewing some Kopi Luuak."

"Thanks, Greg. I can't today."

He nodded, as if he had anticipated that. He approached my desk and lowered his voice.

"It feels weird, huh?" he smiled, "I mean, to meet here and talk as if nothing happened."

I nodded reluctantly. I didn't want to talk about it. 

"I'm glad we did it, Grissom." He said firmly. "Oh, and don't worry; I'll keep it between us."

"Thanks, Greg."

"You're welcome." He said, eyeing me speculatively. 

Suddenly I remembered his words, 'can you feel me… come on, come on…' and remembered my own reaction to his words-

"Do you have my DNA results?" I asked abruptly.

"I'll have them ready in half an hour." He said promptly. "I'll call you as soon as I have them."

We looked at each other for a moment.

"Grissom." He began, "Are you… busy later?"

"Hum, yeah." I nodded, shuffling some papers on my desk. "I'll be teaching a seminar at the PD Academy."

"Oh. I thought you hated to do that."

"Couldn't say no, this time." I shrugged.

"Well. Lucky kids." He smiled. "So… would you like some coffee?"

"I guess not, Greg. I've got to prepare my class."

"Oh. Ok. Tomorrow, then." He said and walked backwards, apparently still expecting something from me. I looked down and continued reading my reports.

I was sure that after a few days of this, Greg would get the message:  I didn't want to talk about what happened. And it couldn't happen again.

Then, just three days later, Lab's Greg exploded.

I've tried to forget that moment in which time froze and I saw him lying face down among the debris, while fire erupted around him. I just whispered, 'no, no, no' until Nick pushed me aside and ran into the lab with a fire extinguisher. I reacted at last and we got Greg out of the lab and far from immediate danger.  

He was the main casualty in what appeared to be an accident.  We didn't know what had caused it yet.  We didn't know if it had been human error, and whose error had been, but my boss came asking for a head on a platter, and he didn't care whose. I only hoped it wouldn't be Greg's.

According to the ER doctor, Greg didn't have any internal injuries and his burns would heal nicely.

The head nurse let me see him but only after giving me a hard time about visiting hours.

"He won't talk much anyway." She said, "He's up to his ears in painkillers."

Greg was lying on his side, apparently asleep, and his face looked as if someone had tried to sand it. But he was alive. Alive, thank God.

For a mad moment, I wondered if I could get in that bed with him. There was no one around after all.  I would hold him, and then I would kiss him-

I chuckled. Like I would dare to do that.

I touched his hair just barely and to my surprise, he stirred.

" 'issom" he mumbled, without opening his eyes.

"…How did you know it was me?"

" 'teps." He replied.  He'd recognized my steps.

I touched his hand and he closed his fingers upon mine for a moment.

" 's 'ad, huh?" That was harder to understand but I finally got it. He was asking if it was bad.

"Nah," I dismissed, "Some broken glass mostly."

" 'ot t' lab.  'y 'ace."  He wasn't talking about the lab, he was asking how bad his face was. "'ill I 'ook 'ike 'on 'aney?" He added.

Uh?

When I finally understood, I chuckled.

"No, Greg; you won't look like Lon Chaney." I patted his hand, "You'll look like you have a sunburn. I promise"

" 'ood." He mumbled. " 'issom?"

"Yes?"

" 'uy 'ondoms." Buy condoms.

I smiled despite myself. The kid knew his priorities.  I drove back to the lab, hearing those last words, over and over. He wanted to have sex with me again.

Catherine's actions might or might not have caused the explosion, but the same could be said about Hodges. At the time, I wished I could have known for sure, but I had to resign myself to not knowing.

In the meantime, we had to pull double duty; Catherine had been suspended, and some cases had to be revised because the evidence had been destroyed.

I was revising some of those cases with Nick when my cell phone rang. 

"Grissom." I answered.

"Hey, Grissom."

"Greg?" I said, distractedly. "You ok?"

"Yeah." He answered, "I… I'm being released today…can you pick me up?"

"Oh." I hesitated, "Sure. Ok. What time?"

"Two o'clock."

"Fine." I hung up and turned to Nick, "Greg's being released today. Can you pick him up?"

"Sure. What time?"

By the time Nick left to pick up his friend, Warrick and Sara had joined him in. 

Just a couple of hours later, Catherine called.  I could barely hear her, she was whispering into the phone.

"Grissom, I know you hate parties, but why aren't you here?"

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"We're at Greg's! We brought a cake to welcome him back home and you're the only one missing!"

"I'm busy here."

"You have to come, Grissom; you're his boss, he needs to know that you don't blame him for the explosion-"

"Why would I blame him? It wasn't his fault." I interrupted,  "I thought you had already told him what happened."

"And I did, Grissom, but he needs to hear it from you. Come on, we'll save a slice of cake for you."

I hung up before I could tell her what to do with the cake.

I wrote steadily for a few minutes before I started to feel remorse. I should have been there.  I should have picked him up as he wanted. I mean, I knew why he'd called me; he needed comfort.

He wanted sex, while I just wanted to get over him.

I thought of him bringing me CDs without expecting anything back. I thought how he'd made feel young and wanted for the first time in ages. It was as if he knew there would be  something inside me waiting to get out… with just one touch.

Just because I couldn't deal with this didn't mean I couldn't give back.

It was my turn to comfort him.

I'd never been at Greg's place before, although he hosted a Christmas party years ago. It's a small apartment, cluttered with books and records.

Sara opened the door and led me through the short hallway.

"We're in the kitchen." She explained.

They were all sitting there, eating chocolate cake. I nodded at Greg and he smiled faintly. It was clear that he was angry with me.

Before I could even finish my cake, they started talking about returning to the lab. They offered to do something for their friend, though. Warrick and Sara took Greg's clothes to the laundry and Nick volunteered to get him groceries.

"Grissom will help you clean up the mess, Greg." Catherine said loudly, before leaving.

"Hey, why me?" I hissed, "You're the one with extra time."

"But you're the one who didn't bother to visit him at the hospital!" she hissed back, "You need to bond with him, Grissom. Also, I've just had a manicure and can't ruin it." She waved goodbye.

When everybody left, I found myself under Greg's stare.

"This is the first time I see you wearing your hair flat." I said awkwardly. He didn't respond, so I started picking up paper cups and plates.

"You don't have to do that." He said, sitting on a stool in the kitchen.

"I want to help." I insisted.

He watched while I cleaned up.

"I thought you'd pick me up, Grissom." He said, after a while.

"I know-"

"I wanted you to do it," he insisted, "You know why?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"I thought you'd come running." He glared.

"I'm sorry-" I started.

"You didn't visit-" He added

"Greg, we've been busy." I said, "I mean, I can do Catherine's job along with mine, but we've been having trouble with your replacement."

"Isn't Williamson covering for me?" He asked, immediately concerned.

"Greg, no one does your job better than you." I said; I'm shameless when it comes to manipulating the pride he feels for his job, but it did the trick; a reluctant smile sneaked his way to his lips.

"Oh, now you're just sucking up to me." He said.

"Yeah," I nodded, smiling back. "Is it working?"

"Not yet."

I threw caution away and added,

"I'll kiss your ass too."

"Yeah?" He chuckled.

"Hey, I'll do whatever it takes to be forgiven."

"Oh, well, in that case…" he said, climbing down the stool. "I forgive you." He put his palm flat on my chest and pushed me into the hallway.  I walked backwards, trusting him to get me safe wherever he was taking me to.

"I did visit you once, by the way." I said, "You were sedated and not making much sense.  You said you were afraid you'd end up looking like Lon Chaney."

"I thought I had dreamed that!" he was stunned; "You said 'no', right?  And then you said that it would look as if I had a-"

"- sunburn." we finished together and he smiled. He rubbed my cheek with his knuckles and I leant to kiss him.

I remembered what Catherine had said earlier, though.

"Greg, you do know that it was an accident, don't you?"

"Yeah, but" he shrugged, "I keep thinking I should have noticed something was amiss-"

"Greg, nobody could have." I said firmly, "Not even you, who have probably saved that lab more times than I know. All right?" I kissed him this time; he gently slid his tongue in my mouth, giving me a taste that was sweet and bitter at the same time. Cake and painkillers.

We remained in the middle of the hallway for a moment, just kissing.

I'd missed him, a lot. He pulled back.

"I missed..." He said hoarsely, as if he had read my thoughts. "… I missed this. Come on, come on" he urged, pushing me towards his room.

We entered his room and started taking off each other's clothes. Mine were easy to get out off, but I had trouble with his shirt.  Again.

"Why don't you wear t-shirts, Greg? This damn zipper got stuck."

He smiled and laid back on the bed, letting me do all the work.

"Rip it off if you want." He said indulgently and flinched when I did just that, "Grissom! This shirt is new!"

I took it off him and I suddenly found myself staring at an awful bruise that covered part of his chest and a shoulder.

"Shit, Greg."

"It looks bad, huh?" he said, looking closely at me.

"Forget how it looks," I said, gingerly touching the bruised skin. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head.

"Greg, maybe we shouldn't do this."

"It's all right." He pressed my hand against his chest. "I won't break, Grissom." He looked at me in the eye. "We can do anything you want."

"Shit, don't say things like that." I groaned. It was embarrassing, but his words were enough to arouse me. I kissed his shoulder, afraid of hurting him.

"I'm serious, Grissom. Anything-"

"All right." I whispered. "Tell me what you want."

We made love as if we had been apart for years; I actually made love to him knowing it would be the last time we'd be together. I did what he wanted, though. I'd been concerned about hurting him out of ignorance, but he was patient in telling me what to do. He had done it before, but a long time ago.

He was very vocal that day.

"I'm alive, I'm fucking alive-" he moaned as he rocked against me, digging his fingers into my flesh. "Gil, Gil-"

It was gratifying to hear him scream my name as he came. What I screamed I'm not so sure of; I was only aware of being inside him, and of his body so real and strong…

He held each other while we got our breaths back. He smiled and leant his sweaty forehead against mine.

"Gil, it was… It was so fucking good-" He moved down a little and lightly bit my arm. "I fucking needed this."

"What, human flesh?"  I frowned and he laughed, biting harder.

"Gil Tartare." He joked. "Don't worry, I'll kiss it better" He teased, licking the bite.  He then looked at me for a moment, and said. "Gil, I…hum. I…" he hesitated and I felt my heart jump in my chest.  I'd never seen that look in his face and for a moment I thought he would say something… Something about love-

But he only brushed a kiss on my cheek. He lazily rolled off me and lay sprawled on his back for a while. I turned to study him: Greg in repose; happy and sated. In the dim light, I could see a couple of love bites, deep purple against his pale skin. I mused how easily Warrick would have identified the author, since my crooked teeth would be a dead give away…

Greg turned to me.

"What's Gil short for?" he asked. I didn't answer, and he speculated, "Gilbert? Gilford? Guildenstern?" I cringed and he was appalled. "What? You're kidding! Oh, man, how did you survive school with that name?"

"Like any short, skinny kid:  I lied about it."

"Short and skinny?" he looked at me for a moment, and then he confessed, "I was short and fat." He noticed my disbelief, "Really. I was short, fat, and pimply," he chuckled, "My ears made me look as if I had wings in my head; I wore braces- Let's just say that I didn't have to fight for Quasimodo's role at the school play."

"You turned out fine." I said, trying hard not to say how fine indeed.

"Guildenstern." He muttered, looking closely at me. "Did you know that you always keep your arms to yourself?"

I looked down at myself, noticing that he was right.

He slid under the sheet until he was invading my space.

"Here, put them around me." He said, and I obeyed.  For a moment, we were practically nose-to-nose. Then he arranged our limbs until we were lying with our arms wrapped around each other and my head tucked under his chin.

 "' night." He whispered, tightening his hold on me.  It was barely five in the afternoon.

"I'll have to leave soon, Greg." I warned him.

"Stay a minute." He said, "Sleep a little."

I tried to sleep but then I noticed a scent that seemed to overwhelm even the smell of sex and sweat.

"What's that? Incense?"

"Whoa," he mumbled, "You do have a good sense of smell.  It's vanilla" he said ruefully, "It clings to every little corner. Vanilla candles; don't ask." He finished dismissively.

I didn't have to ask; someone had obviously been lighting candles to help settle the mood. A romantic girlfriend. 

Well, I could do romantic too.

Not.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Greg?" I asked.

"Mmmmh? Yep." He mumbled sleepily. Then I felt his body tense up a little as he asked, "Does it bother you?"

Hell, yeah.

"No." I said, and after a few minutes, I released the grip I'd had on him. "Got to go, Greg."

"Aw. Wish you could sleep here."

I picked my clothes from the pile on the floor and put them on while he watched.

"I'll have my operation as soon as Catherine's back." I said off-handedly.

"Really?" he sat up. "Shit, Grissom, are you sure?"

"Yeah. I can't put it off anymore."

"Well… I'll pick you up at the hospital." He said and he smiled mischievously.

"Thanks. But I'll be taking a few days off immediately after." I said, "A sort of vacation."

"Great, you deserve a rest."

I glanced around his room, knowing I wouldn't see it again. 

I looked at him.  He was lying on the right side of the bed and now he was holding my pillow in his arms. 

"'night, Greg."

So, is Greg really a jerk? Should Grissom simply enjoy what he's being offered, or should he demand complete faithfulness?

The third chapter is coming up soon!


	3. Third Chapter

A day like any other

Part 3

Hey, Sillie, thank you always being there with a review!

The poem 'Spooks' is by Nathalia Crane and it was excerpted from the book 'The Haunted House and other spooky poems and tales'

* * *

Three weeks later, I had almost completely recovered from the operation and I felt optimistic about returning to the lab. There would be no more written reports or awkward, 'weird' moments.

But there was more: After living my life in fear of ottosclerosis, I had finally defeated the enemy and I was in control of my life again.

Those few days away from the lab had also helped me put the 'Greg situation' in perspective. Actually, I simply blamed everything on my illness. I had fallen in love, yes –like a teenager, no less, or like an old fool, which was worse- but only because I'd been vulnerable. I had been weak, sure, but I was ok now.

I knew I could face Greg without thinking of sex, or love, or comfort, or whatever.

I was going to start over.

Greg was the first to come to my office that night.

"Whoa, Grissom... What is that?" he gasped when he saw the beard I'd grown. I looked up, fully expecting his disapproval (maybe even hoping for it), but he actually found something nice to say about it. "New look, huh? It looks good." he lowered his voice, "I can't wait to feel it on my skin-"

Damn! He'd simply uttered a few words and my body had responded immediately!

I discreetly sat behind my desk.

"Greg." I interrupted solemnly, "About that-" I said and then paused meaningfully. He looked at me, and immediately understood. At least in part.

"You met someone" he said. I thought that was as good an excuse as any other, so I simply nodded. "You did?" he was surprised, "Who is it?"

I didn't answer.

"Well," he said, and smiled tentatively, "Congratulations. Is it a he or a she?" I didn't answer and he asked, "Do you… do you want to double-date?"

"I don't think so, Greg."

"Of course." He nodded, and his smile turned bitter, "You keep your private life to yourself."

I looked down and actually reddened when he lowered his voice to say,

"We could still meet, Grissom."

I was saved by our colleagues' arrival. Sara was carrying a cake, and Catherine, Warrick and Nick came behind her. They practically shoved Greg aside in their haste to get closer to me, and they noisily teased me for taking a vacation without consulting them, and for growing a beard.

I endured their embraces and friendly slaps on the back, until they noticed how uncomfortable I was, and slowly moved to the other side of the desk.

I realized that my idea of starting over was simply to remain the same. Even Greg's parting words seemed to confirm it.

"Welcome _back, _boss."

Greg kept his distance. He gave me lab results in a direct and concise way; he went to Catherine for guidance the few times he worked outside the lab, and more regrettably, he didn't offer me coffee in the mornings anymore. (Hodges was the only one to notice; he asked 'Coffee boy isn't ass-kissing you anymore, boss?' May I introduce you to the joys of tea?'. )

Still, I was glad that my indiscretion hadn't turned into a major disaster.

About a month later, an old woman entered the PD building and in broken English started rambling about a body in a cemetery. Out of a malignant sense of humor, the cops sent her to Brass, who patiently listened to her and then called me.

"It's probably nothing, but this lady seems out of Shakespeare, Gil" That was enough to get me interested.

After listening to her for a moment, I talked to Brass privately.

"All I could understand was: body in a cemetery; not in a coffin, but under it. As soon as she starts talking about someone called Astrid, she loses it."

"Do we know which language she's using?"

"Not sure, but it sounds Scandinavian; Greg might help us."

I called him home, since he was enjoying a rare night off.

" 'llo." I woke him up.

"Greg? I need you."

He didn't answer immediately and I realized I hadn't chosen my words carefully.

"-Grissom?"

"Yes, Greg. Listen, there's an old lady here who isn't making much sense; I think she's speaking Norwegian-"

He hung up. I frowned at my phone and redialed.

"Greg?"

"Call the Consul." He said angrily.

"Greg, I'd rather use a member of my team," I said sternly, "If it becomes a case, it'll save paperwork." Plus I'm your boss, I wanted to say.

But it wasn't necessary.

"All right," he mumbled, "I'm coming."

I suddenly remembered him crying out those exact words, in triumph-

"You ok, Gil?" Brass frowned, "You're flushing."

"I'm fine" I mumbled.

Greg came quickly and sheepishly apologized for hanging up on me. Then he patiently talked to the old lady, who engaged him in a long conversation. By the time she had finished, he was pale and she was crying.

"Poor woman." He said, "She came to live with her daughter's family a few months ago. The daughter's husband was causing them troubles. Then a month ago this woman eavesdropped on him; he was talking about killing someone and burying the body in a cemetery. Her daughter disappeared about a week ago and she's afraid he did something to her."

"Disappeared?"

"Yeah. The husband says she's visiting friends in Minnesota but the mother doesn't buy it. No way was she leaving her mother alone-"

"Was that guy speaking English?" argued Brass, "She might have misunderstood."

"Does this guy work in a cemetery?" I asked Greg.

"I didn't ask-"

"Then do." I said and he started taking notes. "We'll also need to know when she saw her daughter last-"

Brass turned to me:

"It would have to be a small cemetery."

"Yeah, they don't have much security."

"What, you're taking her seriously?" Greg asked, "After all, a cemetery IS the right place for burials."

"Well, some small-time criminals bury their dead in a cemetery." I shrugged, "Sometimes a grave is dug at night, so people can bury their dead at dawn. The grave remains open all night, the killer throws in the body and covers it with some dirt, and the next day a legitimate coffin is lowered -"

"I get it." Greg nodded, and then winced, "Creepy, huh? So you think her story is believable?"

"That's what you'll help us establish here."

Brass established that Robert Bowman had acted suspiciously around the time of his wife's disappearance. He told different lies to different people, and on top of that, he had bragged to his friends about being able to make a body disappear...

Said friends were now cooperating with the police. One of them worked at a funeral home and admitted telling Bowman about a freshly opened grave.

"But I thought it was a joke!" the man protested.

"Pal, if that's a joke, I'm missing the punch line." Responded Brass.

Three days later, we drove to a nearby community. We were armed with shovels and a warrant that gave us the right to open a grave and investigate its contents. Unfortunately, we had to do it after business hours and Greg and I had to stand under the full moon as the grave was opened.

I've dug for bodies for years, but doing it at a cemetery, at night, made a big difference. I said, with a touch of drama:

_Oh, I went down to Framinham_

_to sit on a graveyard wall;_

_"If there be spooks," I said to myself,_

_"I shall see them, one and all."_

"Save it, Grissom." Greg muttered, "I'm not spooked by this. I don't believe in ghosts and neither do you."

"No." I admitted, "But I believe in souls."

He looked at me.

"Does this bother you?" he asked, but I didn't admit it. "How does that poem go?" he said gently.

I finished it:

_A boy passed by, "How goes it with all the ghosts?" said he._

_"Have you heard any walking around?"_

_Now the taunt was the sign of a boy's disdain_

_for the study I did pursue._

_So I took the hour to teach the lad_

_of the things unseen but true_

_And suddenly a bat swung by,_

_and two cats began to bawl,_

_That red-haired boy walked off in haste_

_and I bumped against a post;_

_But I'd won the secret of raising a ghost._

_And the method is this- You must sit on a graveyard wall,_

_And talk of the things you never have seen, and you'll see them, one and all._

Greg smiled at that.

At last the coffin was raised out of the grave and we climbed down.

"You'd better hurry." One of the caretakers said, as he supervised the coffin removal. "It's going to rain pretty soon."

We dug in silence, pausing now and again to study the soil. We didn't see anything yet, but I could already smell it.

"There's something here," I told Greg.

After removing about four inches of dirt, we found what felt like a body, wrapped in a blanket.

With Greg's help, I cut through the cloth to get to the body. The stench was overwhelming now.

"You ok?" I asked without looking at him.

"Yeah." He said curtly, but I could tell he was barely breathing.

"It'll get better." I said, looking up. "Less bad, I mean."

"I'm all right." He insisted, not taking his eyes off the body we had uncovered. It was a woman's body and the hair and clothing were those of Astrid Bowman. We really had no doubts as to her identity. I started taking pictures from different angles and dictated some observations to Greg.

"Cuts on her face… head almost severed from the body… defensive wounds… fractured fingers…"

"She put up a fight." Greg said in awe.

I looked at him closely. He was moved by the atrocity.

"We have to detach, Greg." I said, "Otherwise we can't be objective."

"I'm thinking of poor Mrs. Lavson" he said softly.

"At least she will know for sure now." I said. I was going to pat his shoulder, but I held back. Instead I called out to the cops to lower the stretcher so they could remove the body and take it to Dr. Robbins.

Greg muttered something that sounded like a prayer as the body was taken away. I immediately kneeled to examine the soil.

"Let's collect our evidence." I said. "The killer might have dropped something in here."

"Isn't it clear that Bowman did this?" He argued.

"Greg, we don't want this case to rest on Mrs. Lavson's shoulders. Let's fill the bags."

We started bagging dirt and labeling. Alone, since the local cops believed that the evidence started and ended with the bodies.

I had to admire him; despite the oily smell of death that clung to us, he wasn't gagging anymore. He seemed pissed off by something, and he was shoveling dirt with angry movements.

"Hey, take it easy." I said, "This isn't a competition, ok? You'll be sore if you go on like that."

He didn't answer then, but after a while, he sniffed his clothes.

"This smell really clings to you, huh?"

"Huh, huh."

The first raindrops started to fall and Greg looked up. He seemed to be making up his mind about something.

"So, Grissom." He said casually, "Will your imaginary lover like this 'Eau de Mort' scent?"

"Let's pile these bags by the ladder." I replied.

"You didn't meet anyone, did you?" He asked, grunting as he lifted some bags.

I ignored him.

"Want to know how I knew?" he insisted after a moment.

"No." I muttered.

"You're back to your old ways, boss." He said, answering his own question. "You're keeping your arms to yourself -"

"Greg?" I interrupted, "Get those bags to the van; I'll get the rest."

He reluctantly obeyed. I hoped that by the time I climbed out of the grave, he'd let the matter alone.

But as we hauled the bags to the van, he talked as if there had been no interruption.

"You didn't have to invent anyone, Grissom; you could have just told me-"

"_I _didn't invent anyone," I said in the interest of the truth, "You assumed-"

"You could have told me," he insisted, "You could have said something like, 'Greg, I'm sick of fucking you'"

"I wasn't sick of it." I said patiently. "I had my reasons-"

"Let's hear them," he challenged.

"Well," I stalled, "I'm your boss-" I said as I opened the trunk, "-I'm much older than you-"

"Fuck the age difference," he muttered.

"I'm still your boss." I warned him.

"So? I thought you'd be glad to have someone-"

"You thought I'd be grateful." I interrupted

"Yeah, ok." He admitted, putting bags in the trunk. "I thought you'd be grateful. But you had a good time-"

"Yeah." I admitted. "I did."

"And you don't miss it?"

I did. Before Greg, my sex life had been simple, consisting mostly of my hand and a deep knowledge of the human body. Or a ride on a roller coaster, when I felt adventurous. But now when I was in bed, I missed him so much I turned to fantasizing. My mind kept coming up with the most outrageous situations- Greg and me doing it everywhere: on my desk, in his lab, in the showers…in the interrogation room…though not at the morgue, thank God.

But it wasn't only that.

"I miss talking to you." I admitted.

"Do you want to talk?" he challenged, "All right, I'll start: I don't buy that 'age' excuse. There's something else that bothered you."

"Yes, there was," I admitted; "I was getting distracted at the lab-" I began.

"That's because you weren't used to it-" He argued.

"-and I can't let my personal life ruin my work, Greg-"

"Grissom, you don't have a personal life-" he interrupted.

Those words hurt, no matter how often I hear them.

"-And you said you had a girlfriend." I said pointedly and for the first time he didn't know what to say. He just gaped at me.

Good.

"We need to take off our coveralls," I informed him, "They're part of the evidence."

"You said it didn't bother you." He protested.

"Not anymore." I said, taking off my denim coveralls. The clothes I was wearing beneath were drenched in sweat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he insisted. Then after a moment he asked, "What do you want?"

"Put your coveralls here," I said, handing him a paper bag, "Seal it and label it."

He didn't move.

"Hurry up." I said curtly, "We need to get this evidence to the lab ASAP."

"All right, all right-" he muttered, taking off his coveralls.

I glanced at him, remembering the thrill of taking clothes off him, holding my breath in anticipation… and then putting my hands on bare skin that felt so hot-

I guiltily looked away.

"All right, I'm finished." He said. He was wearing jeans and a shirt that had zippers and buttons and I felt a pang of nostalgia: it was similar to the one I'd ripped off him-

"Now answer me," he said firmly, "What do you want?"

"What I don't want -" I said, "-is to fall in love and wonder what you're doing with her, or anybody else." I looked at him and I was surprised to hear myself saying, "I want you to be with me, but not because you 'fucking need _it' _or you 'fucking miss _it'_."

He was frozen in place and only moved when I handed him the car keys.

"Drive."

We got in the car and drove to the exit door. Greg sat quietly while I talked to the night guard. The old man had insisted he had never fallen asleep on the job, but it was clear that he did the night that Bowman buried his wife's body. Now he sheepishly wished us a good night.

Greg drove past the cemetery door and stopped the car. It was raining harder now.

"Grissom, I do have feelings for you."

I looked at him.

"I do." He reassured me. "I needed _you_, but I didn't think you'd want to hear me say it. I tried to show you how I felt instead; I mean, I called you from the hospital, remember?" he said. "I called _you_, Grissom, not my girlfriend-"

"But you're still with her."

"Yeah, but… she's my girlfriend, Grissom. I need her." He explained, "Not that I don't need you, but it's different."

"I understand." I said mechanically.

"You don't." he smiled patiently. "Look, I've always been different; you don't know what that's like-"

I gave him a look and he chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess you do. Well, I was always singled out of a group of friends or cousins. I was always the ugliest, the shortest, the clumsiest…or the smartest, which was a burden sometimes. I got beat up, I was resented, bla, bla, bla; you know how it is."

"Greg, I think I know what you've been through, but the only respect you really need in life is your own-"

"Spoken like someone who has neither close friends nor cousins." He scoffed.

Touchè. I conceded mentally.

Something intrigued me though.

"I always thought you had a close-knit family-"

"It is," he nodded, "Look, my family loves me, and my parents have always accepted me, but hey, that's what parents do, don't they? But-"

"Not all parents-" I muttered.

"-but they worried about me." he said quietly, "They realized that I didn't fit in. So, when I was fifteen and realized I had a crush on a man…I didn't tell them. I didn't want them to worry again. And I was pissed off too, Grissom; I really didn't want to be queer on top of being weird."

Those had been my feelings too, once upon a time, but I didn't tell him.

"I wasn't going to take a boyfriend to my family reunion, Grissom; I took a girlfriend…And for once I was like everybody else." He waited for some comment from me and then he added, "And I like girls, they make great friends-"

"I understand." I mumbled.

"And my family loves sin."

"Sin?" I frowned.

"Cin. Cindy, my girlfriend." He explained.

"Greg," I frowned, "You're cheating on her."

"With you, Grissom." He said matter-of-factly, "I mean, I just couldn't miss the chance to be with you. You've always been special to me. I mean, didn't you ever wonder why I kept finding excuses to be around you? Taking time to learn all kind of facts just to impress you? Or working on the field, on top of my normal work? I like being with you; I feel that I can be myself when I'm around you. We're good together, Grissom; we fit despite our differences and you know it."

"And you're with her just because your family likes her?" I asked.

"Grissom, I want to be with you." He said firmly, "No matter what else goes on in my life. Don't you want that?"

I looked outside. It was raining harder now and driving would get difficult; we had a two-hour trip ahead of us-

"We need to leave." I said without looking at him.

He took a deep breath.

"Let's go, then." He said and started the car.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sounds of rain and thunder. I had managed to get him out of my thoughts, when he spoke.

"Say something, please. I'm about to fall asleep here."

I glanced at him.

He looked tired; his hair was a dirty mess and he stank. Yet a casual look was enough to remind me how much I wanted him. He'd done something to me that I couldn't explain. Who else would have turned me into a lover, at this time of my life? Others had tried and failed; I had tried to love others but half-heartedly. There was something about Greg that made me lower my own defenses. From the start, I'd let him get away with things I wouldn't have tolerated in others; I let him because he was a genius and a real asset for my lab, but I had to admit that my reasons hadn't always been so pure. For instance, I'd always known the number of moles on his face.

And I drank his coffee, even though it ruined my sleep later on. But it was the coffee he brewed as an excuse to be with me…

"I love you." I said and he was so surprised that he momentarily lost control of the wheel.

"Shit!-" he flinched. He angrily maneuvered the car until he found a spot to park on. "You don't love me!"

"I do." I said calmly

"You'd have feelings for anyone who'd get close to you-"

"No. It's not that." I insisted, "I love you. Completely. You asked what I wanted; well, I want you to stop lying, because I don't want to share you with anybody-"

"I need-"

"You need her, I know," I interrupted, "But you should behonest with her and with yourself. You should be with someone who loves you so much, you don't need anybody else-"

"And are you that someone, Grissom?" He challenged, "I'll be honest if you want: I don't love Cindy, and no, she doesn't love me either; we're just good friends who have sex and a good time. But she knows she can count on me, Grissom; and when I need her, she's there. Always." He looked at me, "Would you do that for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm asking if you can be there for me: Would you come with me to a family reunion or a cousin's birthday? Or would you pick up my dad at the hospital if I asked you to?"

"You wouldn't mind your cousins' taunts?" I glared.

"I can take them." he said simply. "Can you?"

He waited in vain for my answer.

"Or would you share your time off with me, Grissom? Would you let me spend a weekend with you?" He asked, "You wouldn't. You'd rather be home alone with your books or at the body farm with the corpses. But hey, I understand that; it's who you are, and I love you anyway." He smiled faintly, "Yeah, I love you." He admitted, "After five years, I can safely say that it isn't just a crush. I've been in love with you all this time, but I know you don't need a family or friends; you don't want anything to disturb your work. I accept that, Grissom. But I need someone to share my life too."

I looked away, trying to make sense of all that he'd said. I'd forgotten that Greg had a life, while I didn't. He liked to go dancing and dining, and he had new experiences all the time, while all I did was to see life through a microscope.

"So, Gil. Would you come to a family reunion?" he asked again, but his tone wasn't hopeful. He knew me too well.

"No." I said honestly.

He nodded. Then he turned and tentatively put his hand on mine.

"Could we meet now and then?"

I shook my head.

He patted my hand.

"All right, boss." He said and he started the car again.

This time he drove faster, as if he couldn't wait for us to go our separate ways.

We remained in silence until we arrived at the lab.

"Do you want to start working on the bags?" he asked in a conciliatory tone.

"Not tonight. Just fill your preliminary report" I said, "Then go home, Greg. You did enough."

Our eyes met. It was the kind of moment that defines the rest of a life.

I think we both looked away at the same time.

Still, when I went down to the parking lot at the end of the shift, I hoped he would be there, waiting for me. He wasn't.

When I got home, I thought he'd be waiting on my sidewalk.

Then I waited for his phone call…

Finally, that afternoon I decided to go out. I drove idly until the amusement park loomed at the end of the street. I'd come to this park often, and had paid the operator countless of times for a private ride. I'd had countless orgasms there, without even needing to touch myself.

The most pathetic kind of safe sex.

Apparently I was returning to my old ways.

But I didn't want to.

I didn't want to be a pathetic old man feeding off the crumbs of his affection, but on the other hand, who else had ever wanted me like this?

I found myself remembering the first time we had sex. I remembered the intense pleasure he was giving me and how surprised I'd been by it; surprised and embarrassed too, which made me grab a pillow to drown my moans.

"No, no," he said, wrestling the pillow away from me, "Don't be afraid-" he urged, still stroking me, "-just feel how good it is… don't hold back, don't-"

And I'd just let go.

I had fooled myself into thinking that I could live without him. I'd have to learn to share.

I drove to his place.

He was surprised to see me.

"Grissom?" he said and he lowered his voice, "What's up?"

I hesitated for a moment.

"I don't want to keep my arms to myself anymore." I mumbled.

"What?" He was stunned.

"I love you"

"Ok." He said cautiously. I didn't have more to say, so I leant over for a kiss. He tried to say something but after a moment he simply kissed back. I liked the encouragement so I slowly pushed him inside.

"I love you." I said between kisses.

" Me, too. But - " he whispered, stopping in the hallway, "Wait. My pa-" he mumbled but I kissed him again and kept pushing him to the living room. "Grissom, wait" he insisted, "Meet… my parents-"

"Yeah. Ok, whatever…" I muttered, (hell, at that moment I would have agreed to anything he asked). I slowly kissed his cheek and his neck and smiled when I felt him shiver. My beard would definitely be an asset-

"Wait-" he gasped. "-they're here"

I froze. He had to be joking. I looked at him and saw that he was trying hard not to laugh.

I ventured a look over his shoulder and found myself staring back at an elderly couple.

Greg's parents were gaping at us.

I quickly released Greg and took a step towards them.

"Hello, hum, Mr. And Mrs. Sanders," I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. "I'm… I'm…"

"Gil Grissom" Greg supplied helpfully. He put his hand on my shoulder and added, "My boyfriend."

THE END.

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